The Core
by Nichol1
Summary: Jareth and Sarah fight a desperate battle to save their son's soul from an unimaginable evil.
1. Prologue

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**_The Core_**

**_Prologue_**

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Disclaimer: Jareth, Sarah, and the world of the Labyrinth is property of Jim Henson and Tristar and Lucasfilm and various other people who are not me. I earn no profit from this story, only the joy of writing.

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            Labyrinths are only mazes, and at the heart of every maze is its core.

            This was true even for his father's labyrinth, which was magic, malevolence and magnificence embodied. Though it flowed and twisted and defied time itself, even it had a heart, if one cared to find it. 

            Griffith was awoken by the soft laughter of bells and the almost soundless flight of a snowy white owl. Sitting up, he stretched in the moonlight and slid from his bed slippery and sleek. He swung open his window and peered out into the endless darkness. Sure enough, two glowing eyes peered back at him and he smiled.

            "Hello Father," he whispered, and then stepped back. He concentrated, squeezing his eyes shut tight. His form shimmered and then a small hawk, black as jet, appeared where he had stood. Spreading his wings, Griffith took flight and soared through the window to join his father.

            They glided quietly through the night, over the Labyrinth and high above things too bizarre for human imagination. The world fell silent in their wake, respectful of their presence. They were the King and his heir, and they were lords of their domain and masters of the night.

            Griffith stayed right on his father's tail feathers, totally fearless as long as he could see and follow him. His wings caught the merest breath of air, and his spirit soared with the joy of flight. The hawk was his favorite form, and the first his father had taught him.

            _"Shouldn't I be an owl, like you?" he had asked when he first took on this form. His father had only smiled and held him close._

_            "You can never be me," the King had assured him. "You can only be yourself. You are a hawk, not an owl."_

They alighted on the sheltering branches of an ancient oak. The King was the first to return to his true form. Reality shifted and a slender, eternally young man appeared. He sat on the branch, which was as wide as the stairs in his castle, and allowed his legs to dangle beneath him. His son landed next to him and resumed the form of a small boy.

            They sat in silence, for there were no words worth saying, and listened to the world breathe around them. The cool air ruffled the boy's hair and he leaned against his father who draped an arm over him to hug him close. Griffith snuggled towards the warmth and marveled at how magic seemed to pour from the King's very skin.

            The moon's milky glow settled over them and Griffith heard the song grow in the air. It echoed in every living thing, and he felt jolts of delight streak through his body. Finally he could bear it no longer and finally joined his voice to the melody. Looking up, he saw his father doing the same.

            When the song's tempo died, Griffith asked softly, "Why does Mother never join us?" He had come with his father on these midnight flights since he was barely more than an infant, and yet his mother had never flown with them. This was the first time he had plucked up the courage to ask about her absence.

            His father's smile grew melancholy. "She cannot hear the song."

            This troubled Griffith greatly. "Has Mother no magic?" he asked. 

            His father laughed gently, but it was not a cruel laugh so the boy knew he was not being mocked. The King never mocked his son or wife, though he could be cruel to others that he thought ignorant or ridiculous. "Your mother has the greatest magic of all," he assured his child. "She has the power to see through lies and pierce illusions. Hers is the power to create and destroy, to give and take away. Why, if it pleased her, she could rob me of all my magic, and has before."

            "But she cannot hear the song?"

            "No," his father said finally. "She cannot hear the song."

            Griffith decided it must be like having perfect vision, but being completely deaf and unaware of it. He could not imagine not hearing the song within all growing things, hear them hum and purr with life. His father had learned long ago that there were some things even his beloved wife would never understand and never be able to partake of, and this was one. As much as she loved them, Sarah never understood why her husband and son would disappear in the night to bask in the moon's rays and join their voices to the symphony of song.


	2. Chapter I

**_Chapter I._****__**

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          Dawn had just broken when Sarah entered her garden and knelt on the soft grass under the sheltering shade of the trees. This had been a gift to her from Jareth on the day, many years ago, that she had agreed to be his queen. It was her sanctuary, her private place, and no one, not even her husband, could enter without her permission. 

            Now she reclined, soaking up the first rays of the sun, stretching lazily as they warmed her body. She never failed to find peace here, away from the glorious insanity that was Jareth's realm. The garden was green and shaded, with brilliant patches of color where she had planted flowers, and waving fern fronds where she had not. At its center stood a fountain, carved of marble and pearl, made in the image of the claws that was Jareth's royal sigil and which adorned his necklace.

            Behind her Sarah heard the soft fluttering of feathers, and when she turned her head she saw two birds, an owl and a hawk, land on the branches of a tree that stood at the entrance to her garden. They hooked their claws in and sat quietly, awaiting her consent to their presence. She beckoned and they swooped down, their wings barely stirring the leaves of the trees they flew past. 

            They transformed in midair, and in a twinkling her husband and son stood before her. Jareth had not aged a day since she had met him; Sarah doubted he ever would. Griffith was only a boy, all wide-eyed innocence and inexhaustible energy. He had his mother's darker coloring, but every time she looked at him Sarah saw something not entirely human in the curve of his lips, in the angle of his nose, in the way he always seemed to be listening to music she could never quite hear.

            Griffith knelt beside her and she held him close. Looking up at Jareth, she asked, "Is it time?"

            "I'm afraid it is."

            Sarah smiled at her son and ruffled his hair. "Well then, I guess I'd better play at being Queen for a few hours," she said. Jareth helped her to her feet and they walked hand-in-hand through the garden, Griffith following behind. As they neared the entrance, Sarah glanced behind her at the tranquil calm of her haven. With a sigh, she turned her head and followed her husband through.

            Griffith squirmed awkwardly in his stiff clothes, and then tugged at the choker at his neck. His father's guests filed in, one by one, each gaudier and prouder than the last. They were all of the Spirit World, immortals and the Ageless, who had ruled the world long before his mother's people tamed fire. Many of them were insanely arrogant, and when they spared him a fleeting look Griffith always got the impression that they viewed him with something approaching distaste.

            He hated these silly functions – they were nothing but an excuse to dress up, or so his mother said. He looked up at his mother, who sat regally on the throne next to his father. She looked splendid in her gown of dark green, but was no more comfortable than he. The days when she would have relished the thought of such pageantry were long over. Sarah never bothered with sitting in that big chair or wearing a crown – she claimed it gave her headaches – and much preferred mucking about in her garden with dirt all over her hands and her pants rolled up to her knees. Only the King seemed at ease on the throne, but even he looked terribly bored.

            The heralds loudly announced the arrival of more royalty, and Jareth restrained a yawn. He had just begun to stare into space when his wife tugged him on his sleeve and caught his attention.

            "I think Griffith is going to fall asleep," Sarah whispered to him. Looking over her shoulder, he smiled when he saw his son's eyes droop. Obviously the boy found these formalities no more exciting than he did.

            "Perhaps we ought to send him outside with some of the other children," Jareth murmured back. Several of their guests had brought along their own young ones, many of whom were of age with Griffith. It might do them all some good to get out of the royal hall and into the fresh air. He wished he could just transform into an owl and escape but as a king he knew his duties. 

            "Good idea." Sarah favored him with a conspiratorial smile and turned to speak to their son. "Griffith," she said loudly, "why don't you greet some of the younger guests?"

            "_Hmmm?" Griffith perked up when he heard his name._

            "Yes, excellent idea!" crowed a green-skinned fellow who was a king of the elf folk. "I'm sure the other young ones would appreciate being escorted by Prince Griffith. A great honor, yes, an honor." His eyes sparkled merrily. Elves were always merry, they couldn't help it. 

            "I would be happy to," said Griffith, and then stood to walk down into the crowd. The King and Queen were filled with pride as they watched him go; he was a credit to the kingdom. His new companions were a motley group from every corner of the globe, of every imaginable form and filled with magic and fancy. He greeted the small group of young princes and princesses formally, only a bit uncomfortable now. They responded in kind, but as soon as they were out of earshot of the adults the prim and proper façade dropped and their true personalities asserted themselves.

            "What _are you, anyway?" a centaur prince asked Griffith as he gave him a good long look from his toes to the top of his head._

            "Lycidas!" cried an elf princess, aghast at his bad manners. 

            "What?" replied the centaur, whose name seemed to be Lycidas. He poked Griffith once in the chest. "It's just a question. My father told me that your father was a Fae who was cast down by the other Fae for being evil. But you don't look Fae and neither does your mother."

            Griffith was too astonished by the centaur's insolence to speak, but a young girl with the body of a human and the head of a cat replied for him. "That's because he's only a half-blood," she said imperiously, "his mother is a human. My father says the Fae are notorious for loving humans. He says they don't care anything for the purity of their blood, like _my_ people do." She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a self-satisfied air.

            Lycidas laughed at her – neighed, rather – and stomped his hooves with mirth. "Oh yeah, _your_ people care so much for their bloodlines they marry brother to sister!" He slapped Griffith on the back playfully. "At least you're not inbred like the Egyptian over there," he said, and Griffith wasn't sure if he was supposed to be flattered or insulted. The Egyptian princess hissed at him angrily, but Lycidas only laughed harder.

            "Hush, all of you," a softly accented voice spoke from above, and they craned their heads upwards to see a slender female form glide down towards them. "Were you all raised in barns?" she asked as she approached them. "You certainly act like mindless beasts. Prince Griffith is our host, not an object of curiosity. We should all be thankful that he has borne your foolish drivel so patiently instead of giving you the thorough tongue-lashing you deserve."

            He flushed a bit but finally got his bearings. "Thank you…."

            "I am Long Liling," she said amiably, nodding her head in a respectful bow. Griffith bowed in return, and then shot a withering glare in the general direction of Lycidas and the Egyptian princess. They both looked properly chastened. She flew down to him and he could hardly keep from staring at the fascinating way her body seemed to ripple with every move. 

            "I apologize for these fools," she said. Long Liling was truly a curiosity. She was a Chinese dragon spirit, but a youth and therefore not allowed to participate in the ceremonies. Her elders had sent her to be with the other children, and so she had joined Griffith and his band. The dragon spirits could take human forms, but Liling was inexperienced and when she transformed she still retained some of her true form's aspects – her skin was patterned with scales and she glided through the air as though swimming through water. Her people were usually reclusive, and rarely attended formal banquets even with other Immortals.

            Lycidas and the others decided that Griffith hadn't been _that_ interesting anyway, and returned to teasing and gossiping like children. He spared them barely a glance but continued talking to the dragon princess. For some reason he didn't quite understand, he wanted to be near her and would have been content to talk with her forever. Liling had been kind to him for no reason other than because she was a kind person and he found that wonderful.

            "Would you like to see the Labyrinth?" he asked, surprising himself. The Labyrinth was forbidden to guests and he had never invited anyone there before. To his delight, however, her great eyes grew wide and sparkled like perfect rubies. 

            "The Labyrinth?" Liling repeated breathlessly. "Really? I've heard it is incredible! My mother says it has no end, it just keeps twisting on and on…" She sounded like a little girl overwhelmed by a new gift.

            "The Labyrinth is as endless as you want it to be," said Griffith, taking her hand. "Come, I'll show you. My father's magic is illusion and dreams, and your secret desires give the Labyrinth shape." He began to lead Liling out of the ballroom, carefully skirting any adults who might've stopped them. Peering above the crowd he saw his parents busy speaking to several monarchs, not paying much mind to their wayward offspring. A strange and wild bravery drove him on, and he and the dragon princess slipped out unnoticed.

            "So the Labyrinth is whatever you believe it to be?" Liling asked him in a hush whisper as he led her down the endless flights of twisting stairs. The din of the party faded behind them with each step.

            "Exactly," Griffith replied, thinking how clever she was. "It has no power but what you give it. Conquer yourself and you conquer the Labyrinth. It's harder than it sounds though! My mother is the only mortal who ever solved it." He was rather proud of the Labyrinth; no one else in all the spirit realm had its equal. His father had created it during the long lonely years of his exile and it was matchless.

            They exited the staircase and walked out across a terrace. Suddenly Liling drew up short, pulling Griffith to a stop. He turned wondering eyes to her and she pointed at the wall ahead of them.

            "It's a dead end," she said, with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "We can go no farther."

            "Oh, surely you have more imagination than that," Griffith replied with an impish grin. "Things are not what they seem." With that he pulled her forward and they disappeared into the wall.

            Inside the party, Sarah fanned herself. Some of the guests pressed against her and the air grew hot. Noticing her discomfort Jareth discreetly summoned a gust of wind to cool the room and she smiled gratefully at him in return. 

            "So you escaped the Labyrinth when you were only a girl?" The speaker, a gnome princess who came to Sarah's knee, peered up at her curiously. The Immortals never could believe a mere human could have solved Jareth's maze, and she found herself retelling her story every time they had a ball just to confirm it personally. 

            "Yes, I did," said Sarah. There was a twinge inside her and she realized something was wrong, something was missing. She began scanning the crowd, hoping to see whatever it was that was causing this feeling.

            The gnome wrinkled her face. "But how did the King ever steal you back?"

            "He didn't steal me back. I chose to return."

            This reply seemed to astonish the gnome princess, who stood gaping at her as she tried to digest this information. Almost entirely ignoring her, Sarah continued staring through the throng. "I returned, and we married," she continued absentmindedly. "Griffith was born… Griffith!" Understanding filled her. Turning from her guest, she began pushing her way through the crowd to her husband.

            "Jareth!" she cried, grabbing his sleeve. "Griffith's missing!"

            He blinked in dismay. "Missing? He's probably just playing with some of his friends. Where would he be?"

            "I think he's in the Labyrinth," Sarah said quickly, though even she could not have said how she knew this. "Something's wrong, I feel it. We have to find him."

            "Liling!" A dragon floated down from the ceiling and transformed into a handsome Chinese man. "Perchance have your majesties seen my youngest daughter? She was right there a moment ago, speaking with your son…"

            "Oh, no." Sarah fixed her gaze on Jareth and he saw the depth of her alarm. "We have to find them. There's something terribly wrong – I don't know what it is but there's something evil in the Labyrinth."


	3. Chapter II

**_Chapter III._**

            Farther and farther they walked, and with every step another law of nature ceased to exist. Liling saw things she couldn't describe, creations of light and crystal and magic. Griffith led her down the twisting path until her head swam and her imagination seemed to stretch to infinity.

            A horrible smell assaulted her senses, and she gagged. Griffith covered his nose and said, "Transform into your dragon form and we'll fly over the Bog. You don't want to get close to it, I promise you."

            They changed and flew together, hawk and dragon, high above the Labyrinth where the air was clean and enchantment sparkled in the heavens like diamonds. She was a shaft of white moonlight, he the glittering black of darkest night, and they soared together over all creation. 

            They landed in a grove of trees whose green branches waved at them invitingly. Liling transformed into girl form and caught hold of Griffith, jumping up and down with delight. "This place is incredible! You could spend a lifetime just exploring it…"

            "It's not so bad," he agreed. "I've never given anyone a tour before. My father could do a better job. He created the entire Labyrinth himself and knows every nook and corner. There are some places that are mysteries even to me." He rather liked the way Liling's arms twined about his neck, and felt a blush creep up his neck. Trying to play it cool, he glanced upwards and saw that they stood under a peach tree laden with ripe fruit that was almost bursting with juice.

            Reaching up, Griffith plucked a peach and presented it to her. "Try one. They're my father's favorite, delicious."

            Long Liling began giggling helplessly as she accepted his gift. Puzzled, Griffith asked, "What's so funny? Did I say something wrong?"

            "Oh, no," said Liling as she took a big bite and wiped away the juice from her lips. "It's just that in China, a peach is a symbol of fertility." She giggled again at the way his entire face turned crimson. Griffith had interesting eyes; just when she made up her mind that they were green, they changed to blue, and just when she made up her mind that they were blue, they changed again to hazel. They were now a pale green flecked with gold, and she flushed when she realized how long she had been staring at him. 

            Then his hand wrapped around her wrist, thumb on her pulse-point, and he whispered, "Do you hear it? Music. In the silence."

            Liling pursed her lips as she listened intently, as though trying to remember half-forgotten lyrics. "Yes," she said, "I hear it. It's beautiful."

            Griffith's smile was soft when he looked at her. "Yes, very beautiful." He released her and leapt forward, searching for the source of the sound. "Come, fly with me!" Then he was a hawk, airborne, and shooting like a star. Laughing, Liling followed him a moment later, rising and rising.

            Jareth abandoned the ball without a word, pushing past his guests and stalking upstairs purposefully, his cape belling behind him like a thundercloud. Sarah followed, her skirts whipping about her legs and her heart fluttering in her throat. She had never felt a fear like this, not in all her life – it froze her blood. 

            _There is something evil in the Labyrinth._

She hadn't had to tell her husband twice. Sarah had never been one for practical jokes, and as soon as he heard the dread in her voice he had felt it too. His eyes were icy and every movement of his lean, deceptively fine-boned body was quick and sharp. The castle around him hummed with life, love, everything that was valuable. His family – his wife and child – had brought those things to his barren realm, and Jareth was prepared to fight to the death anything that threatened what he treasured.

            "Show me my son, the prince," he commanded to his scrying pool. The waters swirled with Glamour, the changeling magic he had inherited from his Fae ancestors. He had created this pool in the long-ago and not much missed days of his exile, when he had spied on the Human Realm and sought babies to steal. Now it was long unused, grown over with moss and ivy. Sarah reached his side and stood breathlessly, peering intently into the pool.

            The waters glimmered, and then tried to form an image. A strange and terrible cloud slashed the pool's peaceful surface, shattering the image. Jareth cursed as the water began to boil with an evil black tar.

            "There's new magic in the Labyrinth," he said, turning to Sarah. "Somehow, some _unseelie has invaded without my knowledge and is trying to keep me from seeing into my own realm."_

            "Wait!" cried Sarah as he began to transform. "What's an _unseelie_?"

            Jareth sighed. "What I used to be," he said finally, and then in a flash he was an owl, flying through the window in search of his son. His wife slumped to her knees, too overcome to say or do anything.

            _There is something evil in the Labyrinth._

            "Excuse me!" a rather grumpy voice piped up, and Sarah turned to see the gnome princess she had spoken to earlier standing in the doorway, hands on hips. "I must say, you are without a doubt the two _rudest_ hosts I have ever suffered in all my days! Just barging out of your own party without a by-your-leave. You'd best remove me from your guest lists in the future, for I won't accept an invitation to your next function."

            Sarah stared at her a moment in disbelief, trying to process what had come from her mouth. "Get out," she said, finding her voice. "Get out and stay out!" She groped about blindly and found a rock. Hurling it at the gnome princess, she screamed, "Get out and never return!"

            Griffith and Liling danced through the air with all the easy joy of the young. The farther they flew, the louder the song seemed to become, but there were darker, more ominous tones in it now, sounds they had never heard before. But they pressed on ceaselessly, exhilarated by the discovery of something new and the endless promise before them. They were bright and beautiful and no evil could touch their sheltered bubble. Spiraling to the ground, they landed on soft feet, chuckling and teasing one another playfully. 

            "It grows late," said Liling, looking up at the sky. It glowed blood-red and all of a sudden she felt a little uneasy. "Perhaps we should head back."

            Griffith stood and stretched. "But we're almost to the core!" he told her. "Wouldn't you like to see the center of the Labyrinth?"

            Her curiosity overcame her trepidation, and Liling followed him even deeper into the tangled wilds of the great maze. The ground beneath their feet was carpeted with deep green grass and the gnarled branches above were like the knotty bones of old men. Griffith plowed ahead fearlessly, but she stayed close to his side, shivering in the dim light.

            Ahead, at last, they found a little glade with a solitary fountain bubbling cheerfully. "This is it," Griffith said, and they sat down and rested. An unearthly quiet had descended on the Labyrinth; all the magical beings which frolicked and haunted its pathways and corners had either fallen silent or fled. 

            Liling sighed deeply. "It's so peaceful. I wish I could stay here forever…"  

            "Yeah," agreed Griffith softly. "Forever." He leaned over the fountain to enjoy the spray of the clear, clean water. "Come see this," he said to her suddenly, "there are bubbles in the water."

            There indeed _were bubbles in the water. They rose statefully like old kings and queens, then pierced the surface and floated into the air. She gasped. "They're…"_

            "Crystals," Griffith finished for her, reaching out for one. "They're like my father's crystals. He uses them to cast illusion and read dreams." The tips of his fingers brushed the side of one of the perfect orbs.

            The entire world went white, and Liling's scream was the only sound. 


End file.
